


Secrets

by ArabellaGwen



Category: Hunger Games (2012), Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-02
Updated: 2013-01-02
Packaged: 2017-11-23 09:01:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/620386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArabellaGwen/pseuds/ArabellaGwen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It would be a public scandal if ever the secret were to get out: Tsarevich Pyotr Nikolaevich Romanov, heir to the great and bountiful Russian Empire, and Katerina Everdenska, humble housemaid to the Royal Family. </p><p>Historical AU set during the 1917 Russian revolutions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Secrets

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally written for the second round of Prompts in Panem on tumblr.

**1917**

**Tsarskoye Selo, Russia**

"The Revolution is coming, Katnishka! You need to get out of all this before it is too late!"

His grey eyes bore into hers intensely, trying desperately to convey the gravity of the situation.

"You are my best friend. I would do anything to protect you, you know that. But this is so much bigger than me. I cannot guarantee your safety if you are in the Palace when...when it happens."

She knew it was serious. She knew he was serious. She knew that the man -  _just a boy really, too young to be fighting this kind of war_  – in front of her loved her with all his heart. She knew that she loved him right back. But she also loved another.

"Galyvka..."

She knew how this conversation would end. He knew how this conversation would end. They had had it so many times before, the words played out as lines from a playbook. Rehearsed and revised, but always the same result.

"You know I could never leave him."

He did. It would be a public scandal if ever the secret were to get out. Tsarevich Pyotr Nikolaevich Romanov, heir to the great and bountiful Russian Empire ( _not for long, the whispers spreading across the country promised)_ and Katerina Everdenska, humble housemaid to the Royal Family. Secret lovers. Lustful teenagers. Soul mates. Galena Hawthornova knew not which one of these they were, but he knew for certain how fiercely and steadfastly his oldest friend loved. His Katniss would not abandon her Peeta as long as she had breath in her lungs and blood in her veins.

Though that did not stop him from trying.

"You are not one of them, Katniss! You are one of us.  _Our_  country is in famine,  _our_  people are starving and they are having feasts and parties! You do not belong there. You belong with us."

There was truth to his words, she could not deny that. She still was not sure how a girl from the poorest village in the poorest district of the Empire had ended up in the Alexander Palace. But she had. She had met a boy. And she had fallen in love.

And she would not leave him.

Gale allowed her silence to fuel his argument. "You belong here. In the woods. Where you are  _safe_. Not stuck up there with those prissy Princesses and that damn autocratic German bitch."

"Stop that! She is not really like that."

"Oh really? You of all people have seen all those bruises he is always covered in! It is no great mystery who gives them to him, Katniss. Our beloved Tsarina-" he spat the name viciously "-never lets another living soul near him. Apart from that lunatic Rasputin!"

He chest heaved as he waited for her response. The screaming, the red flooding her face, the shine in her eye he knew and loved. But it never came. Her shoulders slumped and she seemed to crumble before him. She could barely get the words out.

"It...it is not like that."

 

_He winced as her long fingers gingerly came to rest on the blossoming bruise that adorned his shin. It was nothing new, of course, for him at least. But this was the first time he had let her properly examine his swollen flesh. He watched as she fought back the tears that began to pool in her clear, grey eyes._

" _And there is nothing at all that can be done?"_

_Her voice came out as a whisper, as if she were afraid of hurting him even with her words. Peeta smiled sadly and shook his head._

" _No. Nothing. It is the 'family disease'."_

_Katniss slowly retracted her fingers from his leg and pulled herself up to sit beside him on the plush bed. If anyone were to find the two of them here, she would be in more trouble than she could even imagine, but they had both given up on worrying about things like that a long time ago. Their entire relationship was lived in secret, sneaking moments together like he used to sneak her pieces of bread under the table. Sometimes she dreamed of what it might be like, no longer having to hide. Voices whispering her name, eyes watching her every move, their love played out as entertainment for the masses on the public stage. She concluded that she preferred secrecy._

_She didn't want to talk about this, she didn't want to think about the disease that threatened to end her golden-haired Prince's life early. But she had to know..._

" _What is it called?"_

_He sighed. "Гемофилия, Hämophilie, haemophilia. Ugly in any language."_

" _And ou- yo-" she drew a sharp breath, "Children? Will they..."_

_Peeta grasped her shaking hand tightly and silently willed himself to stay calm. The thought that she was thinking about their future children should have sent a rush of giddiness through him, but instead he was forced to confront the sobering reality. He took a deep breath, but when no words came, simply nodded._

_For a moment he saw her crumble, disappear into a bleak abyss of terror and sorrow. But in an instant, she was back. The courageous, unstoppable girl he had run into in the woods that summer. He had caught her hunting on Royal property. She had caught his heart._

_Katniss stood suddenly and began to pace the room restlessly._

" _But why must you keep it a secret? Tell the people! Maybe_ somebody _, somewhere might know something,_ anything _that could help. At the very least, everybody can look out for you, make sure you do not-"_

_He interrupted her gently. "Mama says we must not tell. I do not know why, but I trust her. She only does what is best for me."_

_Katniss stopped and slowly nodded. "Yes, I know. She loves you as dearly as I do." She offered him a shy smile and he eagerly received it, tucking it deep into his heart for later recollection._

" _And that man? Rasputin?"_

_Peeta chuckled. "He's a good man. I call him Haymitch. He is trying to help me as best he can."_

_Katniss stood at the heavily curtained window, staring out of the strip of exposed pane. Peeta began to wonder if this had perhaps been a bad idea, should he not have burdened her with this so soon? Before he was aware what was happening, Katniss moved across the room and sat down beside him. Her calloused hands moved up to grasp his face gently, while his own soft hands slowly snaked around her waist. Searching blue and grey eyes met, mesmerised, before she brought her lips up to meet his._

" _I will not let anything harm you, my Peeta. I will protect you. And I will never leave you."_

 

Gale's heart was heavy as he stared at the girl in front of him. He saw the determination in her eyes. He knew Katniss better than he knew himself, and he knew she had made up her mind.

"I will see you again, Gale. We are survivors, remember? What do we do?" Her voice wavered.

He replied as strongly and firmly as he could, but there was no mistaking the sorrow in his voice. "We survive." He grasped her hands tightly and kissed her on the forehead. "I love you Katnishka. Be careful."

"I love you too Galyvka. I will find you one day. Wait for me."

 

* * *

 

**2008**

**St Petersburg, Russia**

There were many secrets in her family. She never dared ask. She had grown up in the USSR, after all. She knew some things were better left unsaid.

She knew that her grandfather had been alive during the Revolutions. She knew that he liked the taste of squirrel and that he loved his wife with all his heart. But she knew there was something more.

She knew that there was some great significance behind her father's given name, behind her own name. She knew because she had grown up watching him, idolising her fearless Dedushka. She knew because she had seen the pain that fought a war behind his eyes every time their names were uttered. She knew because she had heard her Babushka's muttered prayers, late at night, for  _мира_ ,  _угодить Богу_. Peace. Please God, finally peace.

That was a long time ago. Dedushka had been gone for nearly 40 years. But the secrets had stayed. Her father knew, she was convinced, but he would never burden her with such knowledge. If only he knew how deeply it already burdened her, desperate to know the ghosts that haunted her family. But she never dared ask.

And then it happened. She had arrived for her daily visit to find her elderly father in hysterics. The great heaving sobs wracked his chest with no hope of reprieve. Panicked, she begged him to tell her what was wrong. All he could do was point wildly at the television. As she focused on the screen, her confusion grew. It was just some news story. _What is it?_  she begged. He just gestured again.

She turned back to the screen. It was about the old Royal Family. The missing heirs? There had been two bodies missing from the horrific mass grave the family was found in, she knew that much. The son and one of the daughters, or perhaps a maid, it was commonly thought. For decades, there had been imposters pretending to be a lost Prince or a Princess, but nobody around her ever paid much attention.  _Except Dedushka_ , a voice in the back of her mind told her. He had always investigated each claim in the newspapers eagerly, but would eventually scoff, shake his head and walk off muttering to himself.

But this was a new story. A new grave had been found, two bodies identified. There had not been any survivors after all. The entire family was now at peace together. The report ended, but her father's tears continued. She sat there numbly while he wept for hours, crying out occasionally  _жаль папу Papa...Papa...I am sorry Papa._

There were secrets in her family, and she decided in that moment that she did not want to know. Whatever had haunted the Hawthorne family for nearly a century should be laid to rest. The secrets would end, but the names would live on. She had advised her daughter to pass them down to her children, in some impetuous attempt to make sense of it all. But from this day forth, she swore, her little Pyotr and Katerina would only ever know joy behind her eyes at the sound of their names.


End file.
